Now or Never
by Crazy Sunshine Hikaru
Summary: Sometimes what you don't know winds up hurting you the most... T for language and stuff in later chapters. AU. Riddled with OCs. Shige's character gets twisted.


Hello, it's me. Trying at another Whistle! fic. The last one I was writing irritated me, and I thought to myself, "I should rewrite it." And in rewriting it and toying around with different ideas, I came up with this. Hope you all like it! (And, y'know, if you do like it, leave me a review so that I'll know.)

* * *

_And so this story begins with a photograph, a photograph she keeps folded up and tucked away inside her wallet. It's an old photo from when she was four, sitting on the shoulders of a young man with pierced ears and bleached blonde hair. The memory of him is dim, and the picture itself is starting to fade, but the feelings about him are still clear. Sandra sits at the bus terminal, pulls out the photograph, and stares at it for a couple of minutes. She vaguely remembers spending afternoons in the park with him, chasing soccer balls and eating ice cream. She can remember how he would raspberry her stomach and lifting her so high her back would touch the ceiling. what she remembers most, though, was the day he left. She remembers the screaming and how her mother had to run away from him, how he kept throwing things. She remembers his cell phone ringing. While the two of them were fighting, she went to answer it. It was one of his friends. Through tears she told him that Mama and Papa were fighting. He kept hitting her and wouldn't stop. The police came and took him away, and he struggled the entire time. When they came in, she hid in the coat closet with the door open a crack. One of the policemen helped her mother up, asked her if she needed a doctor. She said no, but she stumbled a little when trying to walk on her own. He took her out the front door after taking her father. She cried into her arms, pulling her knees into her chest._

_Everything after that gets blurry. She doesn't remember Aunt Rei coming to get her, and the week or so she stayed felt like a month. She remembers asking plenty of people what happened to her father, but she doesn't remember any of their answers. She stopped going to the park, and on some nights she could hear her mother sobbing. She stayed at both Rei's and her grandmother's a lot, and when she started kindergarten her mother went back to school. After that she started working at a hospital, and she was rarely home. And it's been that way for a while now._

_So she sits at the St. Monica bus terminal, staring at the faded photograph, and she remembers. She remembers all of the feelings from back then, the feeling of being a child. And as the bus pulls into the terminal, she climbs on and takes a look back at the strangers sitting on the benches and standing around them, all on their own journeys, and she whispers good-bye._

The little metal sign that says 305 on it is dented, and the numbers are peeling off. The hallway smells like piss, and there's little light. I try the doorknob to see that it's locked, which is weird. Why would he buzz me in and then not unlock the door. I knock three times and wait. No answer. I knock three more times. There's a thudding on the other side of the door, then a pause before the door cracks open. A stubbly man with jet-black hair and an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth stares through the opening with bloodshot eyes. I can smell the whiskey on him.

"A-are you Shigeki Satou?" I ask cautiously.

"Yeah," he mumbles gruffly. "Whaddya want?"

"M-my name is Sandra. Sandra Beltran. And I'm your daughter."

"Beltran...Beltran..." He repeats my name to himself several times as his face twists with disbelief. "Sandra...? Alecsandra?"

I nod.

"Alecsandra. Alecsandra." He opens the door further and moves to the side, pulling me into a tight hug. "Come in."

I step inside the tiny, junky apartment.

"Does your mother still call you and everyone else by your middle names?"

I nod.

"Yes, you were Kei, and she was Kai." His eyes light up at the memory. "And there was Rei, Sei, Sai, your grandmother was Mai, and Rei's son was Sou." His unshaven face cracks into a grin as he flops down onto a dusty couch. "Have a seat, Kei. I don't bite."

"There's a couple more now," I say quietly. "Rei had a daughter, and her middle name is Mei. And I have a little brother. We call him Kou."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow in interest.

"Yeah. She got married when I was seven." Another pause. "His name is Armando."

"Armando? Armando Ferreira?"

"Mm." I nod. "You knew him?"

"Knew him? I worked with him!" He chuckles to himself. "We made deliveries for DiBenedetti Imports. We were buddies and everything."

"Were? Buddies?"

"Yeah! We'd go out drinking on Friday nights after work. He always hosted World Cup parties at his house."

That sounds about right. Every time the World Cup rolls around, he and all of his friends settle in the living room with cases of beer and plates of snacks. He practically has to pay Mama to let him do it.

"He still does."

"Yeah? I bet he has to fight Iliana on it every time, too."

"She hates commotion," I say. "Everything has to be quiet and orderly. Whenever we had birthday parties it was always at Grandma's house, and we rarely had huge sleepovers and stuff."

"How is she doing?"

"She's fine," I say. "A little stressed because of work, but she's fine. She works at a hospital now."

"She does? She a nurse?"

"Not that kind of hospital. She works at a psyche hospital."

"Oh..."

"After you left she went back to school."

"Mmhm." My father nods deliberately at the news. "And how does Armando treat you?"

"He's nice," I say. "He tries to be really fatherly to me. He takes me to soccer games and stuff, and he buys me really nice things. He wants me to call him 'Dad.'"

"Do you?"

"Not really," I say. "I usually wind up just calling him Armando. Mom never really tried to force it on me, so I never took to it." An awkward silence fills the apartment. I twiddle my thumbs.

"What about you, Sandra?"

"Hm? What about me?"

"How have you been? I haven't seen you since you were four years old. We have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

"I guess...I don't know what to say, though."

"Say anything."

"Well...I'm going to St. Monica Prep," I say, shrugging.

"You're a smart girl, just like your mother."

"I get that a lot..." And I'm tired of it, too.

"What kinds of classes are you taking?"

"AP English, Precalc, AP Physics..."

"You like school?"

"Not really. I don't dislike it, but I don't like it. It's just school."

"You're better than me, Sandra. I hated school. I nearly dropped out."

I lift my head and turn to study my father a little closer, to see if I can see past his messy hair and silver earrings. I try to see beyond his dingy wifebeater and holey sweats, but there's nothing.

"Are you okay?" he asks, waving a hand in front of my face. "Sandra?"

"I'm fine..."

"I know that look. You were thinking. Trying to figure something out."

This time I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Your mother got the same look on her face whenever something baffled her. Spill it. What's on your mind?"

"How did she put up with you as long as she did?" I blurt out. "You're the polar opposite of her. You sleep 'til noon, you drink like a fish, and your house is as junky as you are. I mean, it doesn't bother me 'cause I'm messy and I drink, too, but how? How did she do it?"

His eyes glitter as he grins mischievously.

"Let's take a walk, kid."

* * *

We find ourselves sitting in an old diner where the waitresses all wear curled hair and red lipstick, and a jukebox sits in the far corner. We sit in a booth near the jukebox, and our waitress makes her way over to us with puckered lips and a mole above her mouth. Teal eyeshadow is caked heavily on her eyelids, and she smells like talcum powder and cheap perfume. She drops two laminated menus on our table.

"Hey there, Darlin'," she says to my father. "Should I get you the usual?"

"Not this time, Lea. I'll just take a Coke this time."

"Uh-huh. And who's this little lady? Care to introduce us?"

"Sandra, this is Lea. She and I go way back. Lea, this is my daughter, Sandra."

"Daughter? Did someone file a paternity suit against you?" Lea laughs hoarsely. "I guess it's not so bad. At least I know you're not robbing cradles." With her hips shaking unnecessarily, Lea walks away to get our drinks.

"Robbing cradles?" I ask.

"Nevermind. So tell me something, Sandra. Why'd you decide to come find me? I'm assuming there's something you wanted from me. "

"I have a question," I say, " and it's not one I can ask just anyone. Mom won't tell me, and no one else really knows except you."

"What is it?"

"What happened between you and Mom?" I ask with a sigh. "She won't tell me why you two got into a fight that night, and no one else knows. And they won't tell me why you just up and disappeared without even saying goodbye first."

As he opens his mouth to answer, Lea strolls back over to our table.

"Are we ready to order?" She sets our drinks down.

"We need another minute," I say quickly.

"Hmm..." She looks down suspiciously at the untouched menus. "Alright."

"Maybe we should order our food before we jump into this," he says. "I promise I'll tell you. Okay, kid? I don't want to ruin your appetite with it."

Anticipation that was building up in my chest leaks through the hole he stabbed inside it, and I nod silently.

* * *

_"Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna think anymore!"_

I stare down at my phone. It's Mom calling me. A lead ball forms in my stomach.

"Hello?"

"Kei! Where are you? It's getting late!"

"I'm at Koren's," I say quickly. "Why? what's up?"

"I was just worried. You usually call when you're not coming home straight away. You know Kou had a soccer game today, and we thought you were going to be there."

"Yeah, well..." I look at the clock on the microwave. It's nearly eight. "By the time I remembered, it was too late. Is it cool if I stay at Koren's this weekend?"

"Yes, but next time call!"

"Okay. 'Bye, Mom."

"'Bye."

I hang up, and my father comes out of the bathroom, running a large hand through his messy hair. He flops onto the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table, and fold his hands across his beer belly.

"You okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine, kid. I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

"About what happened. Between me and your mom. She never told you what happened to me?"

"No. She just said you guys broke up and went your separate ways."

Silence.

"That's not how it happened, is it?"

"Not exactly," he says.

"Then tell me."

"Well, you need to understand that I'm very sick, kid. It's not a physical thing, but I'm very sick. For a while I couldn't even work, and I've been in and out of the hospital a lot."

I stare down at my socks. I don't know what to say.

"I was sick before you were even born, but it didn't get bad until after you were born. That was when I started hearing the voices."

"Voices?"

"Yes... Sandra, I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia."

I keep staring at my socks, clutching my phone tightly.

"I kept hearing voices, and they kept telling me strange things. They told me you weren't my daughter and that your mother was deceiving me. Every time she left to go to work I was suspicious of her. The night we got into a fight she came home from work late. That made me sure she was cheating on me, and I snapped. I attacked her and I couldn't stop. The next thing I knew the police were knocking down the door and arresting me for assault. They questioned the shit out of me, and when they figured out that I was crazy, they sent me to the hospital."

My socks begin to blur as hot tears stream down my cheeks.

"They put me in therapy and gave me a script, and when I stabilized, I called your mother up and explained everything as best as I understood it. She said that for your safety and hers, it would be best if we broke up. So we did."

Try as I might to fight it, a sob chokes its way out my throat. He pulls me into a tight hug, and I scream my lungs out into his shoulder.


End file.
